


Heatwave

by rinnwrites



Series: The Devil's Backbone (Winteriron Drabbles) [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Getting-Together, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Pre-Slash, Tony's a bit of a horndog, What else is new, i guess, now with unsolicited follow-up, suggestive popsicle consumption, this wishes it was smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinnwrites/pseuds/rinnwrites
Summary: Something's up with Bucky's Air Conditioning.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's hot today, so this happened.

Bucky groaned sleepily, chasing the vestiges of slumber but failing as he became aware of the acute discomfort of  _ stifling heat.  _ A press of his flesh hand to his face confirmed that his brow was damp with sweat, and he squirmed in his bed upon realizing that his bedding was too. He’d tossed off the comforter some time in the night, but sweat soaked sheets clung to his skin, and he peeled them back, grimacing. Why was it so damn hot?

He voiced the question to the ceiling and grumbled when FRIDAY informed him that there appeared to be a malfunction in the AC unit for this section of the building. 

Without much thought, Bucky got to his feet, tugging off his sweaty t-shirt and shorts, exchanging his boxer-briefs for a dry pair. It might have been wiser to dress further, but he was still sweating, and the idea of trapping in any extra heat was immediately rejected. 

So he appeared in the doorway of Tony’s workshop barely covered and glistening with perspiration, his hair sleep tousled and a scowl on his face. “Can you do something about the AC in my room?” he asked weakly, telling himself he didn’t sound as pathetic as he thought. 

Tony looked up, a carefully crafted confusion on his face. “It’s not working?” he asked to Bucky’s abs, his eyes trailing down the toned figure in front of him, then back up to his face just in time to see Bucky’s glare. “Right, uh, I’ll get right on that.” he added, making a show of putting the tools he was working with away, eyes trailing back to Bucky every few seconds. 

Apparently satisfied with the response, Bucky nodded and headed out the door, back into the elevator from which he’d come. 

“Shall I turn the air back on now, Boss?” FRIDAY asked from the ceiling, an impressive amount of judgement in her voice. 

“Sure, but cut off the unit for the gym.” Tony responded with a grin as he watched the numbers outside of the elevator door stop on the fitness center level. 

This was going to be fun. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, this wasn't supposed to be chaptered, but here we are.

It was about halfway through his workout that Bucky started feeling stifled again. 

When he’d entered the gym it had been delightfully cool, the door to his locker raising chill bumps up the flesh of his right arm as he swung it open to pull out shorts and a tshirt to cover his rapidly cooling flesh. 

He fell into routine, letting himself float in the trance that the  _ thwack, thwack, thwack _ of his fists against Steve’s reinforced punching bag made. There was something disturbingly comforting in clearing his mind, letting it blank out and disregard the constant stream of thought that still felt a little crowding to his brain. 

Sometime between one punch combination and the next, he felt his shirt sticking to him, and tugged it off, tossing it aside to once again favor bare skin against the heat. 

It was when his breathing got labored that Bucky knew something was wrong. He didn’t get short of breath at the bag, it usually took a lengthy sprint to even begin to wind him, but the air in the room was thick and heavy. 

A curious glance at the thermostat showed him  _ 94 degrees _ and he groaned loudly, “FRIDAY, what the hell is goin’ on?” he grumbled, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel and downing a whole icy cold water bottle in nearly a single gulp.

“It seems that the air conditioning unit has malfunctioned.”

….what?

Perhaps he was suspicious by nature these days, but there was definitely something else going on here. 

Bucky was just turning to head back up to the lab to see Tony about it when he froze in place.  _ Tony.  _ The look he’d given Bucky before suddenly became so clear. 

It wasn’t the first time Tony had looked at him like that, eyes appreciative and maybe a little bit hungry. 

With a glance down at his own glistening, sweaty form, an idea bloomed in Bucky’s head, and a grin stretched across his face. 

“FRIDAY, where’s Tony right now?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yeah. I don't even know. I maybe should have quit while I was ahead, but you can blame the Winteriron Discord for this bit.

“Boss is in the communal kitchen, with Captain Rogers and Mr. Barton.”

Perfect. 

Bucky tossed his sweaty shirt back in his locker and abandoned his routine, absently thinking that he’d return to it later. Currently there were more pressing matters at hand. 

The elevator ride up to the communal floor was short, but the very much functional AC unit was a relief. It was worlds more comfortable than the gym, but Bucky stepped out of the lift into the kitchen still radiating heat, with a false put-upon look, and breathed shallowly, forcing the muscles on his chest and abdomen to ripple.

“‘s hotter than Hades in the gym today, fellas.” He announced his presence unnecessarily, as Steve had already glanced up and back down to the book he was reading, and Clint had narrowed his eyes and smirked as though able to read Bucky’s mind. 

He paid no attention to that, because Tony was at the fridge, frozen with one hand on the door and his eyes wide, trailing over Bucky’s chest again. 

Faking nonchalance with the ease of the Winter Soldier himself, Bucky sauntered over to the fridge and crowded into Tony’s space, reaching around him to open the freezer door, bringing them nearly chest to chest as Tony flattened back against the fridge. 

The cool air from the freezer was a delight, and Bucky reacted organically, sighing at the burst of frosty air as he took his time, rummaged around inside, and produced a cherry popsicle. 

He closed the door and stepped back, pulling the wrapper unceremoniously off the treat and tossing it in the trash before hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter, still facing Tony as he brought the fruity dessert to his lips. 

Bucky’s tongue shot out first, licking a slow, wet stripe up the side of the popsicle, pleased with the taste as he deftly avoided looking up from his snack. He lapped again at the side of the treat, catching a drip of cherry juice as it began melting from the heat radiating from the soldier. 

A barely concealed snort came from Clint’s direction, and Bucky shot him a little grin, only then letting his eyes find Tony, still and transfixed, brown eyes trained on Bucky’s lips, and he took the moment to slide the length of the popsicle halfway into his mouth, his lips stretching around it and cheeks hollowing as he sucked.

He let a dribble of melted popsicle drip over his lip and down his chin, swirling his tongue around the cherry ice as it slid back out of his mouth, a string of spit connecting it to his lips for the shortest moment, but the way Tony choked a second later told Bucky that he’d noticed it.

Bucky held Tony’s gaze, staring so intently as he continued his exaggerated minstrations that he almost missed Clint gagging and dragging a confused Steve out of the room, a muttered “ _ Get a damn room” _ under his breath.

He sighed softly as a few drops of juice found their way to his chest, leaving trails of red like sweet scars over his skin. 

“Whoops,” he chucked softly, “could you give me a hand here, Stark?” he asked, licking his red lips and glancing down at the mess he’d made on his chest. 

Tony, for his part, could hardly breathe, and he was pretty sure his vision whited out for a moment at those words, but despite how overwhelming the scene in front of him was, he was still a genius, and if this was a game of chicken, he was going to win.

“Hell yeah I can.” he answered as soon as he could find his voice again, and without another thought he was right in front of Bucky, pushing his thighs apart on the kitchen counter to stand in between them and riding up on his toes to lap at the melted popsicle, sweet and warm on Bucky’s skin. 

The syrupy sweet mixed with the saltiness of sweat and someone was moaning, Tony didn’t know who, and he didn’t really care, he was more interested in following that cherry trail up Bucky’s chest and neck until he finally tasted those lips, cool and fruity from the dessert and very much curled into a smirk under Tony’s mouth.

It took a moment for the trance to wear off and Tony to step back, gasping for air and stumbling for words. 

Bucky, however, was the picture of calm, even with the rest of that damn popsicle melting over his hand. 

A devilish smirk stretched across that red, red mouth, “If you wanted a taste, you should have just asked.”


End file.
